


Day 8 - Pranks

by Shardinian



Series: Shardinian (Mishka)'s OBEYMEmber! [8]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Situational Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27455317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shardinian/pseuds/Shardinian
Series: Shardinian (Mishka)'s OBEYMEmber! [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993873
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51





	Day 8 - Pranks

“Here. Look. If we replace our standard cockatrice quills with crow, we could make considerable savings.”

“Do they work as well? I thought we used cockatrice because they write superior glyphs.”

“They used to, but there's a start-up in the Third Circle that's discovered a way to empower crow feathers to function just as well.”

“Have you tried one?”

“I wouldn't be suggesting it if I hadn't,” Lucifer frowned. “You know that.”

Diavolo chuckled. “I guess I should. Using crow feathers won't bother Mammon?”

“Hrrmm. Possibly. We'll tell him they're from black seagulls,” he sighed.

“Hahaha! You, my old friend, are an evil genius. Downright devious! Are you sure you were ever really an angel?”

“I vaguely remember having a halo, once,” Lucifer muttered, without looking up from his binder. “Now can we please…”

Underneath the table, something brushed across his foot, and he absently kicked it away.

“…at least try to stay on subject? It's almost midnight, and we've three more projects to cover.”

These quarterly meetings were the worst. They were long, tedious, and inexcusably boring. Lucifer always showed up with his meticulous binders (labelled, pinned with sticky notes and, of course, colour-coordinated), Barbatos always showed up with all of his Master's mis-matched papers and scribbled notes and the occasional doodle carefully collected into a surprisingly organized pile, and Diavolo, always…

well…

Diavolo always showed up.

Lucifer sighed, and pushed one of his binders across the table. “If this is the direction we choose, I'll need your signature…”

Another something rubbed against his leg, and again, he kicked it away without thinking.

Sharing quarters with vermin had been one of hardest things he'd had to accept about life in the Devildom.

“…here, and here.”

Diavolo heaved a bored sigh, and starting signing. “What did the margins on this look like, again?”

Barbatos spared a second from his duty as the official stenographer to snatch a single page from the very middle of his pile without even looking. “Line 134, Young Master.”

And went right back to typing.

Diavolo squinted at the tiny numbers, held up the paper, first up against his nose and again at arm’s length, then just put on his glasses, instead. “Aha! Much better! 34… 34… Where are you, 34…?”

“134,” Lucifer sighed.

“Oh, right! Here it is, right here! Right after 133, Hahaha!”

Lucifer groaned.

Barbatos recorded that, too.

“20%... 21%?! Amazing! That can't possibly be right, can it?!” He handed the paper to Lucifer. “Double-check that, would you?”

“Ugh. Yes, Lord Diavolo.” After a few seconds of examining Barbatos’ impossibly tiny script, Lucifer frowned, looked around the room to make damn sure they were the only three in it, then slipped on his own reading glasses.

“Lucifer! How could you hold out on me like that! I didn't know you needed-"

“I don't. End of conversation. And yes, your numbers are correct. If that's settled, then we can…”

There it was again. This time, Lucifer scowled. In the Demon King’s castle, those obnoxious Little Ds were worse than sewer rats. He tried to boot it away…

…but couldn't.

Well.

That was… peculiar.

He frowned, but still forced himself to finish his thought. “…we can… move on, then…”

He couldn't move his legs. They weren't numb, or paralyzed, not anything so awful as that, just… stuck.

It felt like they were tied, from his ankles to his knees, to the legs of his chair.

He tugged a few times, just to be sure (though just hard enough to avoid calling attention to himself), but whatever was binding him didn't give an inch.

On the inside, Lucifer silently cursed whichever of his fool-hearty brothers was suicidal enough to play a prank on him during the quarterly meeting.

On the outside, he carried right along without missing a beat.

“To the next matter, then.” He swapped the black binder for the green, and opened it to his first (of many) (of MAAAAANY) bullet points. “We agreed to discuss changes to the exchange program, next. In a typical year, we have… Diavolo! Stop doodling on the table! This is important!”

“Right! I'm listening!” exclaimed the Demon Prince, as he stashed his quill under the table and smiled his most charming smile. “What we were talking about?”

**“The. Exchange. Progam.”**

“Right! Hahaha! Of course! Do go on!”

Lucifer gritted his teeth, and forced himself to stay calm. “So… as per our previous meeting, where we discussed the…”

A shiver raced up his spine as something brushed against his knee, and started sliding up the inside of his thigh.

It didn't feel like a rat, though. It didn't feel like one of those bratty Little Ds, either. It felt more like a warm, sensual hand, brushing the very tips of its fingers across his skin.

Without actually looking up, he flicked his eyes from Diavolo to Barbatos and back again. Neither of them seemed effected, and neither seemed bothered.

Which meant neither was Lucifer.

He ignored the feathery tickles as best he could, and pressed on. “…where we discussed the program at length, and… and decided… uni… unilaterally, if memory serves, that…”

It crept higher, up the sensitive inside of his thigh, leaving a prickling trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“…that we…”

Lucifer loudly cleared his throat to distract them as he slipped a hand under the desk and surreptitiously adjusted the tightening crotch of his pants.

“…that we should…”

Diavolo was staring at him, patiently awaiting the end of his sentence. Barbatos was frozen, with his fingers poised above the keys, also patiently waiting.

Lucifer drew a long, unsteady breath, then rattled off his entire thought as a single rapid-fire sentence. “That we should expand the exchange program for the upcoming year beginning next semester if all can be suitably arranged in time or the next if adequate accommodations cannot be procured on such short notice!”

He was winded by the time he hit the exclamation point.

Diavolo beamed. “I couldn’t agree more!”

Barbatos started typing again.

“Barbatos, have you given any thought to where we might house an expanded…”

Diavolo and Barbatos took over the conversation, leaving Lucifer, much to his relief, out of the loop and off the radar.

Off _their_ radars, technically. It was pretty obvious by now that he was the primary target on someone else's.

The invisible hand slid up the inside of his thigh.

Slowly.

Sensually, agonizingly…

…slooooowly.

All while pretending to be deeply engrossed in studying his own notes on the subject, Lucifer swallowed the growing lump in his throat and dug his nails into the arms of his chair.

The hand found what it was looking for, wrapped itself tight, and gave a testing little squeeze.

“mmff…!”

The tight-lipped whimper had snuck out all on its own, without having even the decency to be inaudible.

“Lucifer? Did you say something?”

“NO I DID NOT,” he blurted, much too loudly. “CONTINnnnnn… ahhhh…” it was massaging him, now, all the way up, and all the way down. “NNGH! CONTINUE!”

Barbatos and Diavolo exchanged a look, and simultaneously shrugged. “The 1st level complex would…”

He waited until he was sure they'd moved on without him, then exhaled the massive, stale breath he'd been holding, as quietly as he could, and tried to adjust his pants again.

Except he couldn't do that now, either.

He'd pried his nails away from the arms of his chair, but nothing else had followed.

Now his elbows and his wrists were tied down, too, as tightly as his legs.

His eyes widened, and flicked anxiously around the room, searching for… something? A way out, maybe? A Little D holding a remote control, snickering to itself in a corner?

He set his jaw, held his breath and pulled, for all he was worth… and all it did was make things worse. The massive effort of an unstoppable force attempting to break through an immovable object skyrocketed his blood pressure, swelling every hot vein in his body, and forced his heart onto overdrive, until it was pumping harder...

…pumping harder and faster… 

…until it was pumping so hard and so fast that it couldn't possibly take much more without exploding…

He couldn't move.

He couldn't fight back.

He couldn't even close his damn legs.

Somebody, somewhere, was using his body as their own personal adjustment park, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

“…cifer?”

“…Lucifer! Yoo hoo!”

“Huh? Did… did you say something?”

His toes were curling inside his boots, so aggressively that they were starting to cramp. He was breathing through his mouth, shallow and fast, and couldn't seem to catch his breath. Hot sweat was trickling down the back of his neck.

Panting miserably, he started grinding against nothing. Squeezing his powerful thighs, in a vain attempt to close them together.

Now that he'd started squirming, he couldn't fucking stop.

His heart was aggressively pounding, hard and fast, in perfect time with the invisible hand.

Diavolo seemed to notice none of it. “An election? For local members? What do you think?”

Lucifer groaned under his breath, surreptitiously arched his back and stayed like that, stiff and rigid and trembling, as he did his best to come up with something resembling as answer. “I…

“I…

“I think…

(it must have known he was speaking, because out of nowhere, it squeezed so tightly that he jerked up and gasped)

“it might be hard… much too hard…” 

(he moaned without ever hearing himself do it, and dug his nails in deeper)

“…to swell the… the student body with… an erecti-

“ELection!” he hastily corrected, with a furious flush finally blossoming on his cheeks, “Election! I meant election!”

Diavolo frowned. “Is something wrong? You've gone terribly pale. Maybe we should wrap this up? We can finish the last point tomorrow?”

Barbatos glanced across the table at the panting, squirming demon, flicked his eyes up and down, and professionally smothered his wry, all-knowing smile. He looked back down. “A wise decision, Young Master. Though it would be a shame to end prematurely when we're so close to finishing.”

Diavolo frowned. “Well… that's certainly true. Well, Lucifer? I know you weren't really interested in coming tonight, but do you think you can take just a little bit more?”

Lucifer wasn't listening. He vaguely registered a handful of suggestive words, but couldn’t focus enough to understand what they meant.

The only thing of which he was still fully, painfully, completely, aware, was the throbbing pressure, that aching sensation of fullness, between his thighs. 

“Hnnnnghh!… yes… I... I can take more. I… I **need** more… just… just a little bit…”

Diavolo raised a confused eyebrow. “Are you sure you're alright? You don't usually sweat so much during these mee-"

Barbatos politely cleared his throat, caught Daivolo's eye, and flicked his own eyes purposefully down. Up and down. Up and down.

Up and… down.

Diavolo frowned, pushed his chair back, and looked under the table. “Huh? What am I supposed to be seeing under here? Those are very nice shoes, Lucifer, but I don't see… oh. OH! HAHAHA! Now THAT'S an impressive sight!”

Despite himself, Lucifer moaned and finally arched back in his chair. “HNNGGH… Someone is… nevermind,” he groaned, as his hips started convulsively bucking into the warm, squeezing pressure, “DIAVOLO HELP ME ALREADY!”

Diavolo frowned. “Of course! But… I might be a little rusty, so don't hold it against me,” he apologized, as he reached under the table. “It's been centuries since I've done this.”

“THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!” Lucifer wailed, “JUST FIND WHOEVER'S… AAAAHHHhhh… MMMMMmmmmm… WHOEVER'S DOING THIS, AND PUNISH THEM! **NOW!** ”

With one hand clasped tightly over his mouth to keep from laughing, Diavolo quickly nodded. “I'll get right on it! But… you're the expert in punishing your brothers, not me. What should I do?”

“Find them,” Lucifer panted, “and lock their testicles in a vice… clamp it so… so tightly they can't stop… can't stop screaming… and hang them… by their scrotum from the… from the ceiling… watch them writhe… and scream… and sob for mercy… MMMMmmmm… HNNGGGGGHHHH!!!”

The dark, sadistic fantasy, imagined so vividly, was the final nail in his coffin.

His eyes rolled back. He dug his nails into his chair and doubled over as his abs, thighs, and everything in between contracted together, then threw his head back and arched into a powerful, pulsing spasm that rocked through his groin, all the way up his spine, and exploded a starburst of white lights in front of his eyes.

…

……

……

Lucifer groaned, and sagged weakly into his chair.

Diavolo, beaming brightly, gave him a round of applause. “HAHAHA! What a wonderful show! Barbartos, did you get all that?”

“Every last drop, Young Master,” Barbatos smirked. “Every last drop.”

***

“Hey,” Levi called, “have you seen Lucifer?”

“He's in his quarterly meeting with Diavolo.”

“Oh, right. I'll just look for him later, so I can… err… hey, what's that?”

“This old thing?” She held it up, and Levi frowned.

“Is that… a voodoo doll?”

“Yup. Got it from Satan.”

“Why is it tied to a chair?”

“I told you,” Mishka grinned. “Lucifer's in his quarterly meeting.”


End file.
